A Hole in the World
by jacqueliney
Summary: Rachel was broken, Quinn had no idea why, but in that moment, she knew she had to try to put her back together again. She didn't know how she would do it, or why she even wanted to but, she couldn't let Rachel live out the rest of her life like this.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Rachel is my favorite character so, I'm not sure why I insist on making her miserable. This will be Faberry friendship that may or may not slowly lead up to more in the future. The title is from this quote:

_Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.~Edna St Vincent Millay_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. **

* * *

After meeting with a long list of drug addicts and perverts, Quinn came to the conclusion that putting an ad in the newspaper may not have been the smartest way to go about finding a roommate. Her patience was beginning to wear thin, and if she had the phone number of the last person she was supposed to meet with, a Mrs. Drake, she would have called her and cancelled.

Quinn didn't even necessarily need a roommate. She could have easily afforded the apartment on her own. However, she just moved to New York City, and she didn't want to be completely alone. But, judging by the way her roommate search had gone thus far, she was beginning to think she would just have to accept the loneliness.

Right after graduating from McKinley High ten years ago, Quinn left to attend Ecole des Beaux-Arts, a prestigious art school in Paris. Before she left, everyone told her she was making a huge mistake; that she'd never be able to make it, and she would end up crawling back to Lima within six months. Quinn wasn't stupid, she knew they were probably right. So, needless to say, she was shocked when her art became a big hit. The paintings she sat out on the sidewalk every weekend began to sell faster and faster, and for much higher prices. Then, she started receiving special requests, and soon thereafter, the art shows and magazine interviews came, and Quinn quickly became well known in the art circuit.

Despite her success, Quinn was ready for a change; she readily accepted an offer she received to teach an art class at NYU. The only downside was that all of her friends were thousands of miles away in Paris.

Quinn glanced down at the e-mails she and Mrs. Drake had exchanged, she could only hope that this Drake lady was at least halfway normal. She took a deep breath when she heard a soft knock at the front door.

When she opened the door, it took her a few seconds to recognize the petite brunette in an oversized NYU sweatshirt and worn jeans, as none other than Rachel Berry.

Quinn's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Berry?"

When she placed the ad in the paper, Quinn knew she had to be prepared for just about anyone to show up but, Rachel was the last person she expected to see.

Rachel stared up at the familiar blonde; her eyes were almost wide as Quinn's. "I'm sorry, I knew this was too good to be true," she said before turning to leave.

"Wait," Quinn placed her hand on Rachel's shoulder to prevent the girl from going anywhere but, she quickly retracted it when the fabric of Rachel's sweatshirt shifted and exposed scarring on her shoulder. Quinn stared down at the battered skin, and her mind raced as she tried to figure out what could have happened to cause such horrific damage. "I'm sorry...I didn't..."

Rachel quickly readjusted her sweatshirt and avoided Quinn's questioning gaze. "It's okay. I can still leave; I'm certain I'm the last person you would consider living with."

Quinn stared at Rachel for a few seconds; she seemed so different than the Rachel Berry from high school. Rachel's always perfect hair had been replaced by a messy bun, she was sickly thin, and dark circles outlined her eyes. "As long as you aren't a pervert or a drug addict, I'd actually really like for you to come in."

Rachel shifted on her feet and diverted her gaze to the ground for a few seconds, but ultimately she nodded and stepped into the apartment. "You home is lovely, Quinn. This art work...wow, it's exquisite."

Quinn felt her cheeks warm in embarrassment. "They're mine, actually."

Rachel turned her attention away from a particularly detailed painting of a cottage, and looked at Quinn. "I recall you wanting to pursue art after high school. I'm not surprised with your success. Even though the only art of yours I was exposed to were your bathroom stall doodles, I recall them being quite good. No one heard from you after you left, we never really knew what became of you."

Quinn nodded. "I know. I've been in Paris for the last ten years, I just recently moved to New York." In the past, she'd considered getting back in touch with her Glee friends, but she decided against it. She assumed they were just as busy in their new lives as she was. "What about you? Are you the Broadway star you always dreamed of becoming?"

"I...before everything..." Rachel stumbled over her words, and she took a deep breath in order to try and compose herself. "Yes, I was in Evita and Oklahoma. I also starred in the movie adaptation of Wicked. But, I'm taking a break right now."

Quinn nodded, and sat down on the couch. She motioned for Rachel to join her. After Rachel sat down, Quinn noticed the large ring on Rachel's left hand. "I don't know what your...situation is but, you do know I'm only look for one roommate, right?"

Rachel looked down at her hand. "I'm aware. He...they...don't worry, it's just me."

Quinn was definitely curious. In the past ten minutes she had heard Rachel fumble over her words more than she had in the fifteen years she'd known the girl. But, she could tell by the sad smile that graced Rachel's lips, that it was a sensitive situation, and she decided it would be best if she didn't push the brunette for details. "Oh, okay." Feeling awkward, Quinn looked down at the ground.

"I assumed this was some kind of hoax. I was half expecting to come here and find someone looking to harvest my organs, or something like that. I mean, you can't get a studio in the worst part of Manhattan for six-hundred a month, let alone an apartment like this."

Quinn suddenly felt embarrassed, she realized seeking a roommate for the sole purpose of company could seem extremely desperate. "Well, I...all my friends are back in Europe, and I didn't want to be completely alone."

"That's understandable," Rachel said as she reached up to wipe some stray hairs away from her face.

When Rachel moved her hand, Quinn noticed more scars similar to the ones on Rachel's shoulder. She also noticed three tattoos scrawled on Rachel's wrist. They were:

_4-22-2016_

_ 2-07-2017_

_ 7-18-2020_

Quinn recalled how uncomfortable Rachel became the last time she caught her staring, so she quickly diverted her gaze. "So, if you like it, you are more than welcome to move in. We already know each other, it's not like I have to interview you or anything."

Rachel looked surprised. "Really? I really appreciate this, Quinn." She bit her lip. "I know you must think I am completely irresponsible, and that it must seem like I blew all of the money I made during my time as an actress. But, that's not the way it happened."

The sadness that filled Rachel's eyes was almost overwhelming. "I didn't think that. I hope you know I'm not the same bitch I was in high school, I've changed. I assure you there will be no slushie throwing, and I will refrain from drawing pornographic pictures of you in the bathroom." Quinn was relieved when the last two remarks got a smile out of Rachel.

"That's very kind of you." Rachel's smile faded. "I'm not the same person, either. Far from it, actually. So, I assure you there will be no singing critique or storm outs during my time here."

Quinn laughed. "Good to know. You can start moving your things in whenever you want."

Rachel nodded. "I feel like I should let you know that Santana and Brittany will most likely be helping me move in. I know you haven't seen or talked to them since graduation."

"Santana and Brittany?" Quinn quirked an eyebrow. "You're friends with Santana?" Brittany she could understand, but the idea of Rachel Berry and Santana Lopez being friends completely boggled her mind.

"Yes, after Michael...a couple years ago we got really close. Brittany owns a dance studio, and surprisingly Santana managed to get on the correct side of the law, and is a police officer." Not wanting Quinn to ask her who Michael was, Rachel quickly turned the attention off of herself. "What is it you will be doing here, Quinn?"

Quinn pointed at the logo on Rachel's sweatshirt. "I'll be teaching at NYU. Did you go there? I thought I remember you getting accepted to Juilliard."

"I did,I went to Juilliard. This is just something comfortable that I just throw on to do errands and stuff." Rachel hoped Quinn wouldn't question her any further, she was barely managing to keep herself together.

Quinn noticed the way Rachel was rapidly blinking her eyes and gnawing at her lip. She couldn't help but wonder what had happened that left once spunky and feisty brunette so broken. Quinn assumed this Michael fellow that Rachel had mentioned a few minutes ago was her husband, and that they were going through some kind of nasty divorce, or something like that. As bad as she wanted to, she knew now was not the time to pry. "So, I can give you a tour, make sure you at least like the place."

Rachel nodded, and stood up so she could follow Quinn into the kitchen. As Quinn lead her through the dining room and family room, Rachel couldn't help but be mesmerized by all of the artwork on the walls. The boxes that remained in the room Quinn introduced to her as the office, as well as the ones in Quinn's bedroom, were evidence that the blonde hadn't been living there for too long.

"This is your room." Quinn opened the closed door across from her own bedroom. "It's fully furnished but, you can take whatever furniture you don't want out of here. Honestly, do whatever you want with the room. I want you to be comfortable here."

"Thank you, Quinn. I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate you allowing me to live here," Rachel said. "I can only hope that I can provide the friendship you are seeking."

Quinn could tell Rachel was nervous about attempting a friendship, and she couldn't really blame here. "Remember, we're both very different people. I never thought I'd say this but, I'm sure living with Rachel Berry will be a pleasure."

Rachel smiled. "Is it okay if we come over tomorrow to start moving my stuff in?"

"Yeah, that's fine." Quinn made her way back into the kitchen and dug something out of one of the drawers. "Here's your key, in case I'm not home when you get here. Just let yourself in and do whatever it is you need to do."

Rachel smiled again as Quinn led her to the front door. "Thank you again, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I guess so." Quinn leaned up against the door after Rachel left. She hoped she hadn't made a mistake. Her and Rachel had never been friends, and Rachel was the last person she ever thought she'd be living with. But, the girl seemed so broken, Quinn couldn't have turned her away, even if she wanted to.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews. I promise Rachel's past will be revealed...eventually. Any thoughts/opinions/likes/dislikes/etc are greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading!

* * *

Quinn watched the scene playing out in her living room with wide eyes. Santana Lopez had pulled Rachel Berry into a tight hug. The Sananta Lopez Quinn used to know didn't hug anybody, with the exception of Brittany, and occasionally her parents.

"Are you sure about this, Berry?" Despite the fact that Rachel hadn't been a Berry for quite some time, Santana insisted on continuing to call Rachel by her maiden name. "You don't have to move out, you can stay with us as long as you want."

Rachel pulled away from the Latina. "Yes, I'm sure. We've already discussed this, Santana, I refuse to impose on you any longer." She noticed Quinn standing awkwardly in the corner of the room. "Plus, Quinn here is giving me an amazing deal, isn't that right, Quinn?"

Quinn did her best to hide the fact that she had been staring and eavesdropping on the two friends for the last several minutes. "Right. Santana, it's nice to see you. You look good."

Santana awkwardly shoved her hands into her pocket. "You too, Q. It's been quite a while."

Rachel smiled, and gave Santana a pat on the back. "I'm going to go help Brittany get my things out of the car. That way you two have some time to catch up." She ignored the glare Santana was giving her and quickly exited the living room.

Quinn awkwardly rocked back and forth on her heels. "So, Rachel seems...different."

"Yeah, well, that's because she _is_ different," Santana said. "A lot of shit can happen to a person in ten years. You might've known that if you hadn't been so busy with your new life."

Quinn winced at the bitterness in Santana's voice. "Santana I-"

"You what? Were you too busy doodling your little pictures to take ten minutes to e-mail any of us? Or call us? Or write us?" Santana asked. "We may not have been the best of friends but, Glee was all any of us had in high school. Everyone kept in touch but you, Q. Even Matt Rutherford, and he wasn't even in Glee junior and senior year."

"I know, I should have kept in touch. I just wanted to start over."

Santana shook her head. "Be honest, Q, if Rachel hadn't answered your ad, you wouldn't have bothered to contact any of us, would you?"

Quinn opened her mouth but, no words came out. Truth be told, Santana was right. She most likely wouldn't have tried to contact anyone from her past.

"You know what? It doesn't matter. I don't have time to listen to your excuses about how busy you've been." Santana peered out the window to make sure Rachel was still down by the car with Brittany. "Just...just be careful with Berry. She's had it rough the last two years."

Quinn furrowed her brow. Clearly, whatever happened to Rachel was serious, or else Santana wouldn't feel the need to try and protect her. "What happened to her?"

Santana hesitated for a second before answering. "It's not my place to tell you. When Berry's ready to talk about it with you, she will. I know she'd be upset if I told you about it behind her back."

Quinn nodded. "I understand. Is there anything I can do to help, or make things easier for her?"

"Make sure she eats." Santana paused. "I'll probably be over a lot, Brittany too, I hope that's okay."

"Yeah, of course, that's fine." Quinn bit the inside of her cheek. She couldn't help but wonder if allowing Rachel to live with her had been a mistake. Rachel was obviously having some issues, and if something happened to her while she was living there, Quinn would feel horrible.

Before Quinn could ask Santana about Rachel's stability, Rachel and Brittany came through the door carrying a particularly heavy box. "Quinn!" Brittany exclaimed after she and Rachel dropped the box on the floor.

Quinn smiled. "Hey, B. I heard you opened your own dance studio, that's awesome."

"Yeah." Brittany beamed and patted Rachel on the back. "Once Rachel gets better, she's going to give singing lessons there, right Rachel?"

Rachel's cheeks flushed, if Quinn hadn't been aware of her "issues" before, she certainly was now. "That's right, Brit." Hoping to change the subject quickly, she turned towards Santana. "We need some help getting the elliptical up the stairs."

Santana rolled her eyes. "I will never understand your obsession with that damn thing."

"Santana!" Rachel huffed. "As someone who holds a job where being in excellent physical condition is an absolute necessity, I would expect you above anyone else to understand the importance of exercise."

Quinn smiled as she listened to Rachel's rant, it was nice to know that some things about the petite brunette hadn't changed. After helping carry Rachel's insanely heavy exercise machine up the stairs, Brittany and Santana both had to get to work. They said their goodbyes to Rachel, and left the apartment.

"I was thinking about making a salad for dinner, do you want some?" Quinn asked, peaking her head into Rachel's room.

Rachel jumped when Quinn's voice unexpectedly filled her room. She quickly wiped her eyes, and put the picture she was holding face down on her nightstand. "Yeah, sure. I'll be out in a minute."

Quinn nodded and walked slowly back to the kitchen. She wasn't sure how long she should continue pretending to be oblivious to Rachel's emotional state. She certainly didn't want to pry and end up upsetting Rachel, though. Especially now that she knew she would have to deal with Santana's wrath.

"Thanks," Rachel said when she walked into the kitchen and saw Quinn putting salad on two plates. "This looks great, Quinn."

"Well, I feel like I should admit that it came in bag," Quinn confessed as she poured two glasses of water.

As they ate, Rachel could feel Quinn's eyes on her. "It is considered rude to stare, you know."

Quinn dropped her fork, she wasn't aware at how obvious she was being. "I...sorry, Rachel."

"Santana told you to make sure I ate, didn't she?" Rachel asked, she rolled her eyes when Quinn nodded in response. "She worries too much."

Quinn figured she could use this conversation as an opportunity to get more information on Rachel's well-being. "Does she have any reason to worry?"

Rachel nervously played with the large diamond on her finger. "No, well not anymore." She turned her attention away from her ring and met Quinn's eyes. "You really have no idea, do you?"

"No idea about what?"

Rachel took a deep breath. "About what happened to me? What turned me into this person."

Quinn stared down at her plate. She felt guilty; had she kept in contact with Rachel, or anyone else for that matter, she would know what happened. She might even be able to help Rachel. "No, I don't know."

Rachel nodded. "It's kind of nice, though. You don't look at me like I'm about to shatter into a thousand different pieces. You don't pity me, and you don't try to get me to talk about them...about what happened. It's just nice to have someone treat me like a normal person."

"You can tell me about it, if you ever need to talk I-"

Rachel cut her off. "I know, and I probably will, someday. Just not today. Thank you for dinner, Quinn." She smiled politely, put her dish in the sink, and disappeared into her bedroom for the night.

Quinn did her nightly routine, all the while her thoughts were on Rachel, and what could have possibly happened to her. She knew it probably had something to do with the scars. Quinn concluded earlier in the day as she watched Rachel unpack some boxes, that the scars looked like they could be from severe burns but, she couldn't be one-hundred percent sure.

She was also pretty certain that the Michael person Rachel mentioned the previous day was involved as well. Maybe he was an abusive husband? Maybe he burnt her, and she escaped, and that's why she'd been living with Santana? Quinn shook her head, she knew there was no point in trying to guess what happened with Rachel. She would just have to wait for Rachel to come to her, no matter how long it took. She shut off her light, and nestled into her bed for what she hoped would be a good night's sleep.

Muffled screams coming from the room across the hall jolted Quinn out of her sleep. She glanced over at her clock, it was three in the morning. Images of a man crawling into Rachel's window and doing God knows what to her, flashed through Quinn's mind. She quickly grabbed the closest thing she had to a weapon, a shoe, and burst through Rachel's door.

She put the shoe down when it was clear that no one was attacking Rachel. The girl seemed to be having a nightmare. She was shaking, and thrashing in her bed. Her brow was sweaty, and every few seconds she would mutter random words.

Quinn sat down on Rachel's bed, after deciding that the best thing to do would be to wake her up. "Rachel? Rachel, wake up" Quinn shook her gently, and from the light of the moon coming through the window, she noticed that most of Rachel's arms, shoulders, and back were covered in what Quinn thought were burn scars. "Rachel please wake up."

Rachel's eyes shot open. "Michael?" she called out, still in a sleepy haze.

"No, it's Quinn," Quinn said softly. "Are you okay?"

Rachel let out a loud sob. "I tried; I tried so hard," she said as she buried her head into Quinn's shoulder.

It took Quinn a few seconds to get over the shock of having her former frenemy sobbing into her shoulder but, once she did, she began rubbing Rachel's back in an attempt to soothe her. Rachel continued to cry, and Quinn could feel her tears soaking through her t-shirt. She pulled Rachel a little closer, and whispered words of comfort into her ear.

Quinn wasn't sure how much time had passed before Rachel's sobs stopped, and the girl stilled in her arms. "Rachel?" Quinn whispered. Rachel's lack of an answer, and her steady breathing, brought Quinn to the conclusion that she had fallen asleep. Slowly and gently, Quinn laid Rachel back down in the bed and covered her up. Before she returned to her own room, Quinn stood in Rachel's doorway, and stared at the girl for a while.

Rachel was broken, she had no idea why, but Quinn knew she was broken. In that moment, she decided that she had to try to put her back together again. She didn't know how she would do it, or why she even wanted to but, she couldn't let Rachel live out the rest of her life like this, she just couldn't.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews. In this chapter the beginning of the Rachel/Santana friendship will be explained. And in the next chapter, the meaning behind Rachel's tattoos will began to be revealed. Thanks so much for reading/reviewing!

* * *

Rachel groaned and banged her head against the headboard as she thought about the events of the previous night. She'd woken up and saw Quinn sitting on the edge of her bed, with a look of concern on her face, a look she knew all too well. When she first saw Quinn, she had every intention of telling her that everything fine. But, that became impossible when her mind started to playback the dream she'd had. The same dream she had every night over the past two years.

She sighed when she heard an excessive amount of clanging coming from the kitchen. She assumed it was Quinn attempting to make breakfast, or something. She also assumed that after what happened in the middle of the night, she would need to find another place to live, immediately. Always wanting to be prepared, Rachel got dressed, and began packing her belongings.

"Hey." Quinn peered around Rachel's doorframe. "I thought I heard you rustling around in here."

Rachel didn't bother looking up from her task. She just nodded, and began to separate her clothes into neat piles.

Quinn furrowed her brow. "What are you doing? Laundry?"

"No, I'm packing. I figured I'd spare you the awkward speech about how this isn't working out. It's fine, really, I completely understand."

"What are you talking about? Is this about last night?" Quinn's face fell when Rachel nodded. "Did I do something wrong? Oh God, I didn't hurt you when I was rubbing your back did I? I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking. I was only trying to make you feel better."

Rachel absently touched the scarring on her arms, embarrassed that Quinn had seen, and noticed just how bad it really was. "What? You're worried about whether or not you hurt me? Which you didn't, by the way."

"Of course I am. I just thought that was why you were leaving. Did I cross a line when I came in your room? I thought someone had broken in or something..." Quinn's voice trailed off, and she tried to figure out what would make Rachel suddenly want to leave. She'd only been there one night, and Quinn knew she wasn't _that_ bad of a roommate.

Rachel sighed, she could see the confusion on Quinn's face. "After the...incident last night, I assumed you wouldn't want to live with someone who is so messed up. I figured I'd get a jump start on packing."

"We may not really know each other that well anymore but, I don't think you're messed up, and I'm certainly not going to kick you out."

Rachel stopped her sorting. "What if I_ am_ messed up? I don't know what I was thinking when I moved out of Santana's apartment. I thought it would be okay but, the nightmares, they're too much for anybody to handle. I'm sorry I put you through this. I'll finish packing, and then I'll be on my way. You can pretend like none of this ever happened."

Quinn walked into the room, and grabbed the girl by the hand, she could feel the roughness of Rachel's scars beneath her own soft skin. "Stop, I don't want you to leave."

Rachel quickly jerked her hand away. She knew how uncomfortable people became when they were forced to touch her mangled skin; and she didn't want Quinn feeling anymore uncomfortable than she already did. "Why not? We're not friends. We haven't even seen each other since you taunted me about my graduation gown that was poorly altered and dragging on the ground."

"I know, and I'm sorry about that," Quinn sat down on the bed. "I just think it's a little irrational for you to pack up and leave after one bad night."

Rachel thought about it for a few seconds. "I suppose you're right. The only other apartment in my price range happens to be above a butcher's shop; and I don't think I could handle the guilt of living above hundreds of dead animal carcasses."

"Good. Speaking of food, I was attempting to make some vegan pancakes. Do you want some?"

Rachel glanced over at the clock on her dresser. "As lovely as that sounds, Quinn, I have somewhere to be."

Quinn resisted the urge to ask Rachel where she was going, as well as the one she had to follow the girl. "Oh, okay. Well, maybe we can have lunch or something."

Rachel forced a smile, clearly Quinn was taking Santana's order to make sure she ate far too seriously. "Yeah, that sounds good."

* * *

Santana sat in her patrol car outside of Quinn's apartment building. No matter how badly she wanted to go inside and check up on Rachel, she knew doing so would only send her friend into one of her longwinded rants how about she was a grown woman, and she didn't need Santana to "mother" her. So, she settled on sitting outside and watching the building instead.

Despite the fact that both of them moved to New York after graduation, Santana never thought she'd be friends Rachel, let alone care about her so much. She would never forget the day all of that changed.

_November 24th, 2022_

"_Do we know what caused this?" Santana stared up at the apartment building that was engulfed in flames. _

_Another officer nodded his head. "Some idiot tried to fry a turkey inside his apartment."_

_Santana rolled her eyes; she'd been on the force for four years, and every Thanksgiving there was at least one turkey related fire she had to respond to. But, she'd never seen a blaze this out of control. "What's with all the cameras?" Granted, there were always reporters at incidents like these however, she'd never seen this many before._

"_The actress Rachel Drake lives here," her colleague explained. "They just pulled her out a few minutes ago."_

_It took Santana a few seconds to make the connection. "Berry was in there?" She stared at the building in horror._

"_Whose Barry?"_

_Santana ignored the question. "The actress, is she alright?"_

_The officer shrugged his shoulders. "She didn't look alright to me. It's a damn shame, she seemed like such a nice lady. My kids loved her movie."_

_Santana did her best to finish her shift, and keep Rachel off of her mind. She failed miserably. She didn't even know why she was so worried. The only time she'd seen, or even thought about Rachel, was when Brittany dragged to her to see some musical Rachel was starring in. _

_But, somehow, at the end of her shift, Santana found herself walking into the hospital. The hope she had that Rachel was just being a drama queen, and wasn't even severely hurt, was crushed when the woman at the patient information desk pointed her in the direction of the burn unit. _

"_I'm here to see Rachel Ber-, I mean, Rachel Drake," Santana said to the woman at the nurses station. _

_The woman looked up. "Are you family?"_

"_Well, no but-"_

_"I'm sorry, I can't let you see her then."_

_Santana sighed, and pulled out her badge. She'd hoped she wouldn't have to resort to this. "NYPD, I need you to show me to her room."_

_The nurse was hesitant but, she did as she was told. "You'll have to wear these; we can't risk her wounds getting infected."_

_Once she was dressed in her scrubs, and had her mask on, Santana was lead to room 432. She fully expected to see Rachel awake, and bossing around the hospital staff. But, that wasn't what she saw. _

_Rachel was attached to a countless number of wires and tubes; one of which was shoved down her throat. The majority of her upper body was bandaged, and if Santana hadn't triple checked the name on the door, she wouldn't have recognized her at all. _

"_Her pain is so severe that we've put her in a medically induced coma," the nurse explained. _

"_Is she going to be alright?"_

_The nurse nodded. "She should be, as long as we're able to prevent infection."_

_When Santana arrived at the hospital that day, she only intended to stay long enough to take a quick glance at Rachel and wish her well. That quick glance turned into a two hour visit, which turned into daily visits; and Santana and Rachel's friendship quickly blossomed, surprising them both. _

Someone banging on her window pulled Santana out of her thoughts. "Settle down, Berry," she said as she got out of her car.

Rachel gave her friend a stern look. "Why are you parked outside of my apartment like some sort of creepy stalker?"

"Don't flatter yourself; I'm working."

"No, you're worrying. You don't have to moth-"

Santana cut Rachel off. "Mother you. I don't have to mother you, I know."

"Well, I don't know why you insist on repeatedly doing something you know you don't have to do."

"How's everything going?" Santana asked. "If she isn't treating you well, I can have a talk with her."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Quinn has been nothing but polite. Even after an extremely embarrassing incident late last night."

"Another nightmare? Have you been taking your medication?" Santana gave Rachel a disapproving look when the shorter girl shook her head. "Berry, your doctor gave it to you for a reason, and that reason isn't for it to sit in it's bottle."

"I don't have time for this," Rachel said as she started to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Santana asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Rachel stopped and turned back around. "Where do you think I'm going?"

"Your therapist said it's not healthy for you to go there every day," Santana reminded her. "I thought you were going to start only going once a week?"

"I promised him, Santana. I promised him I would visit him everyday. It was the last thing I said to him. I'm not going to go back on that promise."

"He's not there, he's gone. Revolving your entire day around a trip to see-"

"You don't think I know that, Santana?" Rachel's voice began to rise. "Every second of every day of my life, I'm reminded of that. I don't see why you, or anyone else for that matter, expects me to just forget about it."

"No one expects you to forget. We're all just really worried about you."

Rachel quickly wiped the tears that had fallen from her eyes. "Like I said, I don't have time for this."

Santana watched helplessly as she disappeared around the corner. Moments like these, made her feel like she was doing more harm than good when it came to helping Rachel.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter, I love them, I really do. Sorry a few days went by without an update. I would like to post a chapter everyday but, that isn't always possible. A lot is explained in this chapter. I know there hasn't been a lot of Faberry but, that will change in the upcoming chapters.

Also, this should be obvious but, **the bolded text** is the headlines that Quinn is reading and _the italicized text _is the actual article she's reading. I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading/reviewing!

* * *

"Take your pills, Berry," Santana said as she stood in Rachel and Quinn's kitchen holding a prescription bottle. "I'm not leaving until you take them."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Well then, I suggest you get comfortable because, you're going to be here for a while."

"Enough fooling around, just take the damn pills." Santana briefly entertained the idea of putting Rachel into a headlock, and shoving the pills down her throat but, she ultimately decided against it.

"Don't you have something better to do other than babysit me? I'm not taking the pills, I don't need them."

Santana took a deep breath and counted to ten in her head. She was doing her best to remain patient. "We both know that's a lie; you need them. I'm not your dads or Brittany, I can't just sit here and pretend like you're fine. You aren't fine. You need help, and these will help you get better."

"Really? I wasn't aware that I was prescribed time traveling pills. Nothing short of that is going to make any of this better." Rachel could feel the tears filling her eyes and she did the best she could to bat them away. She knew if she cried, Santana's concern would only grow, and pill issue would only be pushed further.

"Michael wouldn't want this. Do you think he would want you to live out the rest of your life this way?"

"Don't tell me what he would want. You didn't know him, Santana. Therefore, you don't get to tell me how my husband would want me to live. I'm not taking these damn pills, so stop trying." Rachel smacked the bottle out of Santana's hand, causing the little white pills to scatter all over the kitchen.

Quinn's gasp caused both girls to look up. "I'll come back later," she said as she quickly turned to go back out of the door she had just come from.

"No, I'm going to go." Rachel was humiliated that Quinn had witnessed her little outburst, and she refused to meet the blonde's questioning eyes as she brushed by her to leave the apartment.

Quinn knelt down next to Santana, who was trying to get the scattered pills back into the bottle. "I can clean this up, if you want to go after her."

"Thanks, Q." Santana handed over the pill bottle, and gave Quinn an appreciative smile before she left. She knew exactly where Rachel had run off to.

* * *

Rachel shivered in the cold November breeze as she sat on the bench, staring at the stones in front of her. She cursed herself for not grabbing a jacket before storming out. Perhaps storming out hadn't been the best thing to do. She was certain doing so only amplified the impression that she was in fact crazy. Throwing a pill bottle full of crazy pills on the ground, and then running out, doesn't exactly give people the impression that you're sane.

Hoping it would help warm her up, Rachel brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. She was no stranger to this particular bench, she'd been coming to it for the last five-hundred and thirty days. Not that she was counting. That number would have been significantly higher if it hadn't been for the hundred and eighty days she spent in the burn unit.

She glanced down at her tattoos. Somehow, a tiny spot on her left wrist had been the only place on her arms where she hadn't been burned. The scars that covered her body were a constant reminder of the worst day of her life, and Rachel wanted, no she needed, something to remind her of her three best days.

"Thought I'd find you here." Santana sat down on the bench next to Rachel and attempted to catch her breath.

"You didn't have to follow me, you know," Rachel said, continuing to stare down at her wrist.

"I know, Berry, I know." Santana noticed Rachel was tracing the first date on her wrist: _4-22-2016. _"I'm sorry I didn't come to your wedding. I really wish I could have met him."

"You wrote that you had 'better things to do' on your RSVP card. I wasn't surprised, though. I didn't expect you to come."

Rachel smiled as she thought back to her wedding day. It wasn't the dream wedding she'd had story-boarded in her closet since she was fifteen. For starters, she had been twenty-one when they wed, not twenty-five, and she had yet to star in any Broadway productions, let alone win any Tonys. Barbra Streisand and Patti LuPone were also not present to preform a duet for the first dance like she planned on. But, in Rachel's eyes, the day was still perfect.

Her groom had been far from the male lead she'd always dreamt of. Michael lacked rhythm, and he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. Rachel didn't care, though. She fell for the NYU law student, who was four years her senior, the moment they'd met at some party her roommate at Juilliard had dragged her to during her freshman year. He was sweet and charming, and he treated her with the respect she'd longed for when she was dating Finn.

Rachel pulled her knees closer when the wind picked up, and made the tears on her cheeks sting. "You were right; I'm completely unbalanced, he'd be so disappointed in me."

"Don't put words in my mouth, Berry. I never said you were unbalanced. I just wish you would accept some help, that's all." Santana noticed Rachel shivering, and she sighed as she removed her jacket and placed around her shoulders. "Come on, let's get you home. You act like a complete diva when you're sick, and I don't have time to deal with that."

* * *

After the incident she'd witnessed in the kitchen, and listening to Rachel cry herself to sleep every night for an entire week, Quinn couldn't take it anymore. She needed to know what was going on. She'd tried to talk to her about it many times but, Rachel always avoided her questions and ended up changing the subject.

So now, Quinn found herself sitting at her desk with her laptop opened to Google. In order to make herself feel better about prying into Rachel's past, she told herself she was only doing this because if she knew what the problem was, she'd be better prepared to help.

Taking a deep breath she typed _Rachel Berry_ into the search engine. Her eyes quickly scanned the results, hoping she would find something useful. Unfortunately for her, most of the headlines seemed to be from Rachel's college days:

**Sophomore Rachel Berry to Star in Juilliard Production of Grease**

**Juilliard Senior Rachel Berry Lands Off Broadway Role **

But, the third headline down seemed promising so, Quinn clicked on the link that lead her to the Lima News webpage.

**Hiram and Leroy Berry Announce the Engagement of Their Daughter**

_Hiram and Leroy Berry of Lima are proud to announce the engagement of their daughter, Rachel Barbra Berry to Michael Robert Drake. Ms. Berry will soon be graduating from The Juilliard School, and Mr. Drake is a recent graduate of NYU School of Law. The couple, who currently reside in New York City, are planning a spring wedding._

Quinn stared at the picture to the left of the announcement. Rachel was standing with her arms wrapped around a handsome light haired man, that Quinn assumed was Michael. Seeing Rachel so happy, made Quinn realize just how far the former star had fallen.

She clicked the back button, erased Berry, and quickly replaced it with Drake, hoping that doing so would give her more current results. A large number of hits came up, and Quinn did her best to read through them all.

**Actress Rachel Drake Not Present to Accept Oscar Award**

**Ten Months After Devastating Fire, Rachel Drake Receives First Oscar Nomination**

_**Wicked**_** Star Rachel Drake a No Show at Movie Premiere **

The next headline definitely peaked Quinn's interest, it certainly explained the scars that covered Rachel's body.

**After Six Months, Actress Rachel Drake is Released From Hospital **

**Exclusive! Pictures of Rachel Drake Leaving Hospital, Against Her Doctors Orders**

As tempting as it was to open that link, and look at pictures of Rachel, Quinn completely disagreed with the way the paparazzi and celebrity news outlets seemed to be exploiting whatever tragedy Rachel had gone through in order to make a profit, so she ignored them, and scrolled down to view the next link.

Quinn's breath caught in her throat, and she re-read the link about a dozen times. Her heart pounded, and her stomach twisted into knots as she waited for the page to load. The thought of Rachel going through such a severe loss was devastating, and she couldn't help but hope that Rachel had accidently been tagged in an article that was completely unrelated to her.

**Actress' Son Taken Off Life Support Two Weeks Following Thanksgiving Day Fire**

_A spokesperson from The William Randolph Hearst Burn Center at New York-Presbyterian Hospital has announced that Bradley Drake, the five year old son of actress Rachel Drake, passed away after being taken off life support early this morning. Bradley was severely burned when a fire broke out in the family's high rise apartment on the morning of November 24th. Rachel Drake, who authorities have told us was not home at the time of the blaze, was also severely injured when she pushed passed police and fire personnel to run into the burning building. Her husband, attorney Michael Drake, 30, and their daughter Camillia, 5 months, were also among the thirteen people that lost their lives that morning. Funeral arrangements have not been made, and Rachel's manager has released this statement: "Mrs. Drake appreciates the overwhelming number of cards and well-wishes she has received from her fans. But, we do ask that her privacy is respected during this difficult time."_

Quinn wasn't sure how long she had been staring at the picture that went along with article. In it, Rachel was holding a baby girl, who shared her big brown eyes, and the man who she presumed to be Michael, had a little boy in his arms, who clearly inherited his bright smile from his mother. Unable to handle their smiling faces any longer, she slammed her laptop shut.

She had prepared herself to read about horrific stories of abuse, or even that Rachel's husband had somehow died. But, to find out that Rachel had lost everything, was a complete shock. Quinn hadn't even raised Beth, and she only knew her from a few pictures Shelby had sent over the years, and she couldn't imagine how painful it would be if something happened to her.

Knowing that Rachel and Santana could come back at any moment, Quinn did her best to compose herself. She wasn't sure how to handle the new information when it came to interacting with Rachel. For the moment, she'd decided to just act as if nothing was different. Judging from the pill bottle incident, Rachel was not having a good day, and she didn't want make it any worse. She now knew what the girl had meant when she said everyone looked at her like she was about to shatter, and Quinn couldn't blame them. She could only hope she'd be able to keep the horror and sympathy she felt to herself, for Rachel's sake.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews. I'm so sorry this has taken so long. I'm hoping I'll be able to update more frequently from now on.

When she heard Santana and Rachel come through the front door, Quinn didn't dare look up from the dish she was washing. She knew if she met Rachel's eyes, she'd probably end up breaking down in tears, or something equally dramatic, and that wouldn't be very helpful to Rachel's situation.

Rachel noticed how Quinn refused to look at her, not that she could blame her. Anyone would feel uncomfortable after witnessing their unbalanced roommate sling a bottle of pills across the room. "I'm kind of tired, Santana. I think I'm going to take a nap," she said once the two of them made it to her bedroom.

"Alright, Berry. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Santana affectionately squeezed Rachel's shoulder. "You have therapy at eleven, be ready when I get here."

Rachel nodded and decided to save her argument about how she didn't need to go to therapy for the next day. "Santana?"

Santana stopped and turned back around in Rachel's doorway. "Yeah?"

"Tell Quinn I'm sorry about what she had to witness earlier with the pills. Do it nicely, she doesn't know anything about my...situation."

Santana nodded before she walked back out to the kitchen and found Quinn furiously scrubbing the same plate. "You're going to wash the design off of that thing if you scrub it any harder," she said leaning up against the counter.

Quinn jumped at the unexpected voice. "I know...I just..."

"She's a lot to handle sometimes, I get it. I'm supposed to tell you she's sorry that you had to witness what happened earlier." Santana grabbed the bottle of anxiety medication and shoved it into her pocket with the intent of asking Rachel's therapist to refill it, since the pills inside were now dirty.

Quinn shut off the water and stopped her assault on the plate. "What? She doesn't have to be sorry."

Santana shrugged. "I know, I'm just passing along the message. See you later, Q."

"I googled her," Quinn blurted out before Santana could leave. "I know I shouldn't have, Rachel deserves her privacy but, I couldn't take it anymore."

"Now you realize why I stressed how important it was that you don't do anything to upset her." Assuming she'd be there a while, Santana took a seat at the kitchen table.

Quinn pulled out a chair and joined her. "I just can't imagine how she must feel. I just found out about it an hour ago, and I want to breakdown in tears every time I think about it. I saw a picture of her, and her husband, and their kids. I don't know how I'm supposed to act around her, or what I'm supposed to say to her. Were you friends with her when it happened?"

Santana shook her head. "She invited me to her wedding but, I didn't go. I mean, it was _Berry_ I barely tolerated her in high school, why the hell would I want to go to what was sure to be the most dramatic wedding ever? I was called to the fire, though. I'd never seen one so bad, and when I heard Rachel was in it, I went to see her in the hospital."

"Judging from her scars, I take it her injuries were pretty bad?" Quinn asked. Both girls were talking in low voices, with the hope that Rachel wouldn't overhear their conversation.

"They put her in a coma for a few days." Santana closed her eyes as the image of a bandaged Rachel flashed through her mind. "She had lost her entire family. I felt the overwhelming need to protect her. But, she was pretty surprised, and probably a little terrified to see me standing at her bedside when she woke up. Her dads were there too, they told her about Michael and the baby, and about how bad Bradley's injuries were."

A loud beeping coming from inside Santana's pocket caused both girls to jump.

"It's the station. I have to go," Santana said as she rose from the table.

Quinn thanked her for their talk, and returned to the kitchen table while she debated whether or not she should go talk to Rachel. She snapped her head up when she heard soft footsteps coming into the kitchen.

"I was just coming to get a drink of..." Rachel trailed off when she saw the way Quinn was looking at her. She instantly recognized the sympathetic eyes and sad smile. "You know."

Quinn just nodded and diverted her gaze to the table.

"Did Santana tell you?"

"No, I...I googled you. I'm sorry, Rachel. I know I shouldn't have. I was just so worried about you, and I didn't know how to help you." Quinn spoke quickly, she assumed that Rachel was going to be fairly upset, and wanted to get her apology in before the girl stormed off or something.

"That's understandable. I know my erratic behavior can be overwhelming, and I wish you didn't have to witness it." Rachel pulled out a chair and joined Quinn at the table

"I really wish you'd stop apologizing."

This time, it was Rachel who didn't want to meet Quinn's eyes, and she suddenly developed an interest in the table. An uncomfortable silence filled the room, as neither girl knew what to say. Quinn was doing her best to restrain herself from crying as she thought of the grief Rachel must be feeling. While Rachel debated whether or not she should excuse herself from the table, or stay and have the inevitable discussion about her family with Quinn. She ultimately decided to go with the latter option.

"Parsley."

"What?" Quinn asked, she was slightly caught off guard by Rachel's random statement.

"Parsley. It's the only reason I am alive. We were out of parsley, so I ran to the grocery store to get some. Bradley, my son, wanted to come. But, he was going through this phase where he wanted everything he saw, and I didn't feel like dealing with it, so I told him no." Rachel did her best to blink back a few tears as her mind drifted back to that day.

"_I want to use parsley as the garnish on the tofurkey platter," Rachel said as she stirred the mushroom gravy. "Since this is our first year hosting Thanksgiving, I want everything to be perfect when our parents arrive."_

"_Do you want me to just sprinkle it, or something?" her husband, Michael called out from the dining room. _

_Rachel furrowed her brow. "Sprinkle it? No, just lay it on the corner of the platter."_

"_Rae? I don't think I did this right."_

_Rachel sighed heavily. "Michael, how hard can it be to lay a leaf on the end of a plate?" she said as she abandoned her mushroom gravy and went in the dining room. Her eyes widened when she saw a pile of green powder next to the tofurkey. "What the... When I sent you out to the store, you got ground parsley, not parsley leaves"_

_Michael shoved his hands in his pockets, he knew how important this day was to his wife. "I'm sorry, Rae. I didn't know there was a difference..."_

_Rachel melted when he smiled at her, she could never stay mad at him for long. "Remember when we were dating, and I made that PowerPoint presentation on the importance of lists? You should have been paying attention."_

_He rolled his eyes at the memory. "I can run out to store and get some leaves, if you want."_

"_No, it's fine. I'll go." She didn't want to have another parsley mixup. _

"_Can I go, Mommy?" Bradley asked as he bounded into the room. _

_Rachel ran her hands through his light brown hair as he stared at her with pleading blue eyes that matched his father's. "No, not this time. It's going to be very crowded, and I'm only going in for one thing." She hadn't forgotten about the last time she'd taken her son to the store. They'd had a battle of wills in aisle fourteen over some Scooby Doo fruit snacks, and she didn't want to have a repeat of that, especially when her parents and in-laws would be arriving in a couple of hours._

"_I promise I'll be really super good," he pleaded. _

"_You can come with me next time. Someone has to be here to help make sure Daddy doesn't burn the gravy, and to entertain Camilla when she wakes up from her nap. Do you think you could do those things for me?" Rachel asked. _

_Bradley nodded. "Will you be back soon, though?"_

"_Very soon." Rachel kissed him on the cheek, and then gave Michael a peck on the lips. "I'll be back in thirty minutes, tops."_

"Rachel?" Quinn said, for the third time. She was beginning to worry that Rachel had gone all catatonic on her.

"I should have let him come. I should have made us all go," Rachel mumbled so quietly that Quinn wasn't even able to understand.

"What?"

Rachel stood up from the table. "I'm sorry. I...I have to go."

Quinn watched as her roommate all but ran off to her room and slammed the door. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed; she really thought Rachel was about to open to her. However, she knew it was foolish to expect such a thing so soon.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Once again, I'm sorry about the delay. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing the last chapter. I love your reviews and they really help motivate me to continue to write this.

* * *

Rachel smiled as she held a picture of Bradley in her hands. It was her favorite picture of him, taken by her fathers during a visit to Lima. She was thankful that her fathers made copies of all of their pictures for her, considering she'd lost every photo she had of her family in the fire.

Quinn cleared her throat to let her presence to be known when she came into the kitchen and saw Rachel sitting at the table.

"Good morning, Quinn. You're up early," Rachel said as she laid the picture down on the table.

"So are you, but if I remember correctly, you have a very strict elliptical schedule to adhere to." Quinn grabbed a coffee cup from an overhead cabinet and poured herself a glass before she joined Rachel at the table. She noticed the picture, and decided that if Rachel wasn't trying to hide it, there would be no harm in asking her about it. "He definitely inherited your smile. When was that taken?"

Rachel glanced back down at the picture, and smiled as she outlined his features with her hands. "About three months before...before...it was taken in August, at my fathers' house."

Quinn bit her lip as she stared down at the picture, she wanted to ask Rachel about the boy. But, she wasn't sure if that was crossing the line or not. She didn't want Rachel to storm out the room again, like she had the night before. "Did he like music?" she finally asked, after a few minutes of silence went by.

Rachel let out a small laugh. "No. Despite my best efforts to get him to enjoy musical theatre, he was all about sports and trucks. I even played the Funny Girl soundtrack against my stomach throughout all nine months of my pregnancy."

Quinn smiled. She recalled Rachel insisting on watching that movie at every single Glee sleepover. "I don't doubt that. I can't imagine you pregnant, you're so tiny."

"The pregnancy wasn't planned. We'd been married less than a year. I was only twenty-two, and I had my first Broadway audition scheduled." Rachel closed her eyes and her mind went back to that day, as she told the story to Quinn.

_Michael frowned when he entered the apartment he shared with his wife, and smelt the unmistakable smell of a cheeseburger. Not, that he would be complaining. He loved cheeseburgers, but due to his wife's vegan diet, he was only able to eat them when she wasn't around, and he had to be sure to brush his teeth properly before seeing her again._

"_Rae?" he called out._

_Rachel squealed and desperately tried to hide the evidence of her participation in the slaughter of an innocent cow in between the couch cushions. _

"_Are you eating a cheeseburger?" he asked as he walked into the living room. _

"_No, absolutely not. I'm appalled that you would accuse me of such a thing," Rachel said defensively. _

_Michael stared at her with an amused expression. "You have some cheese on your face, babe."_

_Rachel's eyes widened and she flung her hand up to her mouth, sure enough, Michael was right. "I just couldn't help myself. I was walking by the McDonalds on Third_, _and as soon as I smelt it, I just had to have one...I may have eaten three."_

"_God, Rae," Michael chuckled. "Between this, and the ice cream I know you ate last night, I wouldn't be surprised if you were pregnant."_

_Michael was clearly kidding, but a feeling of dread settled in the pit of Rachel's stomach. She did a quick calculation of dates in her head, and she realized she was late, very late. "Oh my God. What if...what if I am? I have my Broadway audition in two weeks. You're not making nearly enough money at your internship to support a family. What are we going to do? We're going to end up homeless, living in your car in a bad section of New Jersey."_

_Michael resisted the urge to laugh at his wife's dramatics. In his mind, since Rachel was on the pill, he didn't think there was any way she could have been pregnant. "I doubt it. But, would it make you feel better if I went to the store and picked up a test?"_

_Rachel nodded, and watched nervously as Michael headed out the door. Having a baby would ruin her entire plan. Getting married four years earlier than she anticipated had already forced her to write up a new ten year plan, and she didn't want to have to do it again. She wasn't ready to be a mother. She paced around the apartment while she waited, her stomach twisted into knots when she heard the door open, and saw Michael come in with a paper bag. _

"_I wasn't sure what kind you wanted," he said as he placed the bag on the coffee table and began to pull out boxes. "This one does a little happy face if it's positive." He held a little blue box up, and Rachel glared at him, indicating the the happy face test should only be used as a last resort. "I got these too, this one does a simple yes if positive, and this one deals with lines. I couldn't really understand it."_

_Rachel took the last two boxes from him, and decided to go with the simplest test. She used both sticks that were in the box, just in case, while Michael set the timer on the microwave. _

"_You're not going to leave me if it's positive, right? I mean, a baby is certainly not something that we planned on having for another eight years. I don't know if I will be able to do this with you by side, I can't imagine doing it alone," she asked once she joined him in the kitchen._

"_Hey," Michael said as he wiped a tear off of her cheek. "You won't be doing this alone. No matter what the result is, I'm never going to leave you." _

_Rachel smiled as he pulled her close to him. She jumped a little when the timer went off. "I guess this is it."_

_Michael took a deep breath, and lead the way towards the bathroom. "Remember, it doesn't matter what the result is, we're going to be okay."_

"_It's a yes." Rachel handed the stick over to him, and even though she was doing her best to keep her emotions in check, a loud sob forced it's way out. _

_"Don't cry, Rae." Michael sat the stick down on the bathroom sink. "Everything will be okay."_

"_You're lying," Rachel sobbed into his chest. "Everything is ruined. I definitely can't go to that amazing audition. I won't be going to any auditions for the next eighteen years. My dreams are never going to come true."_

"I've always felt guilty about that," Rachel said as she picked the picture back up. "My dads always told me about how excited they were when they found out Shelby was pregnant, I knew I'd never get to tell Bradley about that moment. I guess it doesn't matter now."

"I remember when you got egged in high school, you dreamt of all the mother chickens coming after you. Did you dream about a herd of cows trampling you for eating their friend?" Quinn asked, hoping to lighten up Rachel's mood.

"Yes, actually. Between the cow dreams, and nightmares about raising a baby while living in a car in Camden, New Jersey, I rarely got any sleep."

"May I?" Quinn asked, gesturing towards the picture.

Rachel nodded and slid the picture across the table. "He is a replica of his father."

"I can see that. But, he definitely has your smile."

"I loved that smile. When I was in the hospital, after I heard about...Michael and Camilla, the only thing that kept me going those first few days was the hope that one day, I might get to see his smile again." Tears began to freely fall from Rachel's eyes. "They wouldn't let me see him, they were worried I'd get an infection going in between the two rooms. But, amazingly enough, Santana got the doctors to agree to put us in the same room."

Quinn reached out and placed her hand on top of Rachel's, and softly rubbed the scarred skin with her thumb, hoping doing so would soothe Rachel, and help her continue to open up.

Rachel's first instinct was pull away, and spare Quinn from having to touch her mangled skin. But, she didn't. She found Quinn's touch to be surprisingly comforting, so she gave her a small smile through her tears and continued. "My fathers were a wreck, they were trying to hold themselves together for my sake, but I could tell. I wanted so badly to hold Bradley's hand. I'm his mother, I'm supposed to comfort him. But, I couldn't my own hands were too badly injured. Santana held it for me. She'd hold his tiny hand in hers while I talked to him. She would even wheel me over, and bring his hand to my mouth so I could kiss it."

Quinn used her free hand to wipe her tear filled eyes. "How did you decide to take him off life support?" she asked cautiously.

Rachel took a deep breath, and she felt Quinn give her hand a comforting squeeze. "He was taken off ten days after the fire. The doctors kept telling me that he wasn't going to make it, that he'd never survive without the machines. I didn't want to listen, though. Each day, I woke up hopeful that I'd turn my head and see him without the ventilator shoved down his throat. I hoped I'd see him laughing or smiling, or even just breathing on his own. But, that never happened. Each day, I looked over at him, and he was still. Completely still, except for the way his body would shake as the air was forced into his lungs."

Quinn didn't even try to wipe away the tears that were now making tiny streams down her cheeks. She continued to rub Rachel's hand, and hoped that was at least giving her a little bit of comfort.

"My dads came in on December 4th, and I told them that Bradley wasn't there. His body was there, but his fun, easy going spirit had left ten days ago. Everything seemed to happen so fast after that. The doctors did last minute tests, just in case. Santana came, and she was patting my arm, until I yelled at her and told her to go hold his hand. She did, and my father pushed some of his hair away from his eyes. They turned off the machine, and he was gone within a minute. I'll always remember the loud beeping sound. It seemed to go on forever, until one of my fathers yelled for it to be turned off. After they disconnected him from all of the machines, they brought him to me, and I kissed his cheek. He was still warm. I...I don't know if I could have handled it if his skin had been cold. I looked at him one last time. His face was pale, and I could see his burns, but he was still the most beautiful little boy in the world."

Sobs began to rip through Rachel's body, and she collapsed onto the table. Quinn immediately let go of her hand, and got up to pull her into her arms. Rachel was hesitant at first, but she finally gave in and allowed Quinn to pull her in close.

A knock at the door, that Quinn instantly recognized as Santana's, she was the only person pounded on the door so loudly and rapidly. "Come in," she shouted, not wanting to leave Rachel's side.

Santana came in, and looked at Quinn expectantly. "What the hell did you do her?" she demanded.

"Nothing...I...we were talking," Quinn stammered, as Rachel pulled away from her.

"She didn't do anything," Rachel said quietly, her sobs had begun to subside.

Santana wasn't convinced. "Doesn't look that way to me."

"We were talking about Bradley," Rachel said quietly as she stared at the floorboards. "I was telling her about him."

Santana's face immediately softened, Rachel rarely talked about the fire with anyone, not even her fathers, and especially not her therapist.

"Let's go. We're going to be late," Rachel said before turning to Quinn. "Thank you for listening to me. I appreciate it."

Santana watched with wide eyes as Rachel brushed by her and made her way out the door. "She talked about him?"

Quinn nodded. "I was surprised, she usually retreats to her room whenever the subject is brought up. But, she told me about Bradley today."

Rachel impatiently called out for Santana from the hallway, preventing Santana from interrogating Quinn any further. "She trusts you," she said as she walked towards the door. "Don't you dare do anything to break that trust, or I will break you."

Quinn raised her brow as Santana slammed the apartment door shut. She took a deep breath, and glanced out the window to see the two of them walking down the sidewalk. Rachel was lingering behind, while Santana was looking back and talking to her, clearly excited to share the news of Rachel's progress with her therapist. After they disappeared around the corner, Quinn picked up the picture of Bradley and went to Rachel's room to place on her nightstand for safe keeping.


End file.
